


Heart of the Mountain

by Tippetarius2684



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arkenstone - Freeform, Everyone lives, F/M, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tippetarius2684/pseuds/Tippetarius2684
Summary: Modern reader lands in middle-earth rather abruptly and finds herself locked in a dungeon. Unable to decide wether she is really in middle-earth or not she decides to just go with it, come along and see where you end up





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So my first Hobbit fanfic and hoping to please the masses. Also my first reader style fiction so hopefully it isn't horrid and may you all enjoy

Chapter One

Awkward that's what the whole day had been for me awkward and entirely worth forgetting.

I had awoken late, and then arrived 15 minutes late for work, been admonished by my boss and put on three months probation. One more slip up and I would no longer be gainfully employed. Then of course just to top matters off some girls I had known from my not distant enough highschool days made an appearance. Here I was working in a simple coffee shop, while they sported fine clothes and jewelry. One even had the beginnings of a baby bump. I just wanted to shrink behind the counter but that became quite impossible once I was recognised. I served them as they exchanged fake niceties and well wishes with me leaving a bad taste in my mouth. 

After eight hours of entirely too much coffee and selling easybake oven donuts, I left work stopping at a convenience store on the way home. I paid too much for my guilty purchases and went trudging home with the collar of my jacket turned up to the wind. The house my second floor apartment was in finally came into view, and I gratefully entered and climbed the stairs as it hopefully signified the end of my trials. I unlocked my apartment door, stepped inside, shucking off my boots and jacket, then proceeded from the entryway into my tiny kitchenette where I unloaded my purchases. A couple of bottles of soda which I put in the fridge, a frozen pizza and a handful of candy bars. I fiddled with the oven to get it to preheat, that done I grabbed up a candy bar and ripped into it. The richness on my tongue brought a small measure of comfort. My feet took me in the direction of my bathroom to discard my uniform and shower.

As I stood beneath the spray letting the water run over my skin and soak my hair, my right hand strayed to my stomach not swelled with the promise of a child. A rueful smile crossed my lips as I recalled the women who had caught me at work and the wounds opened all over again. Instead of their welcoming voices and well wishes of being glad to see me, I could hear their loathsome taunt filled voices of youth. Taking a deep breath I shook it off and began to wash myself and in the back of my head I wondered if all bigger girls faced this reality, it was almost too much to bear except that life didnt stop just because you had been fat shamed and lacked the brash to tell your past abusers to stuff it up their ass. Though the unbidden image of their startled faces caused a giggle to erupt from your mouth. A touch of shame twisted my guts, weight had always been problem a constant struggle and of course this thought caused the other shame shoe to drop,

"What man would ever want to touch soemone like you? Probably disappear in your fat folds!"

With a little more force than neccesary I shut the water off, threw open the curtain and wrung my hair out of excess water before stepping out onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel off of a nearby hook and began drying off as I walked to the bedroom. I opened my closet and pulled out a plain black nightgown that kissed the tops of my knees and adorned my shoulders with tank style straps. It was comfortable and made me feel sexy even if it was only to myself. I could hear the faint beeping of the oven and made my way back to the kitchen. I began to prep the frozen pizza for cooking, but as I opened the oven a strange noise drew my attention. I stopped and listened. No other sound came, and then without warning I became weightless and airborne. I closed my eyes and gave in, waiting for.my body to hit the wall and break, but no such sensation came. The euphoria of weightlessness lasted far longer than it should have. Faint murmurings became clearer at the edge of my hearing, and yet they sounded like they were underwater, but then a singular booming shout,

"LONG LIVE THE KING!!!!"

And then an echoing crack resounding back at the speaker, then I was falling as a rush of warmth flung itself out and away from my body which then collided with another. Shocked my eyes flew open to gaze upon a white ashen face adorned with a black beard and severe nose. Which was about all the scrutiny I got before a hand gripped my elbow and I was ripped off and flung backward against a stone wall,

"Who dares to sabotage a most sacred rite." Was shouted at my prone form.

"Calm yourself Dain," was called from behind us.

"The stone it's gone," cries of outrage followed this statement.

"That human is a thief," more shouts of animosity followed and before I could form any words a hand wrapped itself.in my wet hair. I was presented to a snarling face that asked me,

"Do you know what we do with petty thieves?" A strangled scream is what he got for my answer. The face disappeared then my knees hit the stone floor, the grip in my hair continued. In the background I could hear murmuring to the tune of beheading.

"Dain you are being rash," the speaker was halted by the one called Dain.

"And this thing is being far too quiet for my liking," he shouted as he shook me by the hair. The pain reached a pinnacle and I knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next post folks, I do believe my foray into the hobbit to be smooth so far. I can only hope that you find the journey a pleasant one as I enjoy delivering it to you.
> 
> Also I like to change narration quite a bit when I write and shall try not to confuse anyone. A chnage in narrative shall be indicated this way:
> 
> ~ THE POPE~
> 
> Hopefully that will keep things from becoming confusing and happy reading to you all:)

I knew not how much time had passed, but I woke to the sound of hushed whispers.

"It isna right," came one.

"Makes her right unnatural so it does," voiced another. My concentration was split between the conversation and my scalp that still burned with the cruel twist of fingers. I was aware that I was laid out on the floor on my side, I drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled loudly trying to decide wether I should get up or not. A few moments later I was raising my body and heard the distinct sound of links of chain clanking.

"Look it's moving!"

"Let's not get too close to it," came the voices again. I carefully moved myself to a sitting position, ignoring the chitterings. A few moments passed and I looked to the voices to see bars between them and myself.

"It's looking at us!"

"Shut up," trilled another.

"Excuse me?" Gasps emmited from the onlookers. "Would any of you happen to have a key to this cell?"

"Are you sure that is wise, Gandalf?" came a timid voice. 

"Are you suggesting that I am unwise??" Asked the speaker as he came into view, quick retorts to the contrary were fast fired. He continued, "then I will thank you to unlock this door and give me some privacy with our guest." I watched in silence through the dimness as my cell was unlocked and the stranger shuffled and settled himself in front of me on the floor, with much ruffling of clothes. A faint light began in front of me that grew to a cozy orange glow. A kind old face greeted me with a wry smile.

"Well my dear, you seem to have found yourself in quite the sticky situation. The question is what are you going to do with it?"

 

~BILBO~

The funeral of the Line of Durin was interrupted as the company was forced to their knees by a harsh wind. Before I could comprehend any more, Dain Ironfoot was behind us. He was flinging around what looked to be a woman. What transpired, took place in a very short amount of time. The room was full of dwarves, and then it wasn't, save for a few guards. 

"Girl did not take jewel," rumbled Beorn.

"I daresay, I would like to know whereupon her person they think she would put it, clothed as she was," replied Radagast, asking and yet not asking at the same time. I looked up at Radagast, as Beorn looked down at him and caught my eye, I shook my head. A wet sound drew my focus, it was faint but definite. Beorn must have heard it as well for he surveyed the room as though looking for threats. The noise increased. It couldn't be, could it?

"Thorin?!!" The name slipped my lips for the first time since Ravenhill. I was moving before I knew what I was doing. I was at the slab, pulling, desperate to get up. I was lifted by Beorn and deposited by his side.

"Beorn, ease him onto his side," ordered Radagast, his eyes turned to me, wild, " Open his mouth and flatten his tongue!" A sickening gurgle from thorin's chest halted anything else. My fingers were prying open his mouth and holding his tongue down. As I did this, a heave from his core sent Orcrist skittering off the stone dais. A second heave had rusty red liquid flying from his mouth and painting the stone floor.

"Dead dwarves cannot be sick," stated Beorn, a hand clamped on thorin's side, holding him in place.

"But he was dead, I saw him draw his final breath," I could hear the note of panic in my voice. 

"Not dead now!" Answered Beorn, with an incline of his head and a raised brow. A clatter from Kili's funeral bed made me jump.

"Oh what now?" I exclaimed.

"Life, Master Baggins," Radagast giggles madly. "Magic resides in this room, filling it to brim, soothing and healing," the last slid out on a hiss. It was punctuated by a violent heave of thorin's core, but instead of red, a black viscous guck hit the floor, shiny and vicious looking it glinted at us. Thorin's gurgling ceased and then he drew in a shuddering ragged breath, he released it and drew in air greedily as if he couldn't get enough. Panic filled me,

"Radagast??"

"They all breathe Bilbo Baggins, I do not have to look to know. Some more easily than others," he said, with a pointed look at Thorin.

"Then fetch Oin and Balin," I asked, emotion cracking my voice as tears came anew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling the love from you all and am happy with the traffic my story has been receiving. Someone asked me yesterday why I post my work on the internet and I didn't even hesitate. My answer was: 
> 
> I do it because it is a wonderful and intimate thing to inspire emotions like the flutters of love in your stomach or make you erupt with laughter at a moment of comic relief. If I can affect someone with words on a page, then my job as a writer has been filled. 
> 
> If you stuck with me thanks for reading and please enjoy. Tip♡

~READER~

I had been listening to the old man for quite some time, and several things had become quite apparent to me, but which one of my suppositions was true??? 

'I had blown up and lay dead', being high on the list.   
'My head had been smashed in, I was lying prone in a hospital bed, and this place was my brain's coma land'; was also high up behind blown up and dead.   
My third notion was that this was all 'a very bad, very convincing dream and I was going to wake up any minute and feel very foolish'. 

The old man had been smoking a pipe, looking most comfortable, as he spoke of dwarves of all things. He hadn't even given his name. I had heard what others had called him, but couldn't bring myself to vent my curiousity and ask. He stopped speaking then and levelled his pale blue gaze to mine,

"You are well within your right to silence, my dear lady, but please bear your mind to the eventuality of answering to someone." 

I inclined my head and slid my eyes closed to indicate wordlessly that I had understood him. Commotion from above breaks the moment between you and the old man.   
"Well, I guess that's a fine end to this conversation," he tutted humorlessly, banging out his pipe and pulling his old bones up from the floor.   
"Forgive me, my dear." 

I nodded but said nothing, as I watched him withdraw from the cell, which was promptly pushed closed and relocked by a guard who had come to collect the old man. Sounds moved away with the departure of the guard and the man. I shook my head, still perplexed at the words of the old man as they replayed in my head. I still had no idea what relevance dwarves had to any of this. I also idly wondered if he realized that not all little people liked the term 'dwarf'. I shook my head again, more from weariness this time, and scootched backward to rest against the stone wall. The coolness soothed my back. I was a bit surprised that my back wasnt broken given the force of impact it had taken. It would however be one big angry bruise within a day or so. 

I must have dozed off because the clang of my cell door had me jerking my head up from it's resting place on my chest, to see another old man entering. In one hand he clutched a clay pot, and in the other a metal horn. He shuffled in front of me, and reverently set the pot on the floor. He straightened, and then spared me a glance, before ordering a guard to fetch a new chamber pot as well as a torch. He clambered to the floor, making himself comfy. Nerves shrilled up my spine, I didn't feel threatened but I also couldn't deny my helpless state of being shackled to the wall by my feet. We regarded each other; he had gray long hair, and his poor nose looked abused and crooked, speaking of several breaks long since healed. Beneath the nose was an extravagant beard that looped up on both sides of his face. Calmly and slowly he set the horn down.

"Doubt I will be needing that!" He spoke suddenly, then rushed out more words, "rumours say that you have yet to speak a word beyond screaming at Lord Dain, strange behaviour for a human lass, if you ask me." He grumbled on about humans never knowing when to shut up.   
A half smile lifted the corner of my lip, but then I felt his hand encircle my midcalf. I whipped my head to meet his gaze, a frown replacing the small smile. His hand dropped your calf, as both of his hands came in a halting gesture.   
"Easy lass, you may be quiet but you got some fire in you from the look on your face," he chuckled softly, a hand stayed in the air while the other snatched the lid off the clay pot, releasing a medicinal scent.   
"I made that myself, it is called 'Oin-tment'. It is between a cream and a liniment," he crowed, belly laughing. I raised my eyebrow at him, and he stopped.   
"Tis a joke, lass. I am Oin, son of Groin, so 'Ointment'," he chuckled again, and then waved his hand dismissively at my unamused face.   
"Your knees," he said. At your dumbfounded look, he continued, "I would put some.ointment on your knees, as Gandalf said that Dain nigh ruined them, dragging you down here."   
A little shocked, I nodded and stood up carefully. The old man hummed as he took the clay pot in hand, and he began to apply a generous coating to my almost skinless knees, that looked raw and red.   
"Do you hurt anywhere else??" He asked, looking for my eyes in the torchlight. My back flitted across my mind, but I closed my eyes and shook my head .   
"Truly?? We all heard the thump of you finding purchase on stone, " he said pointedly.   
I regard his stern eyes, smile and nod. "You will tell the guards should anything change," he ordered, as he pulled clean linens from a pouch on his belt. "Blood in your bodily leavings or sudden sharp pains for example", he explained, as he wound the cloth around my knees. He made surprisingly short and gentle work of it. Nodding at his handiwork, he stood and retrieved his horn, his ointment, and gathered the torch. He then exited the cell, which was again promptly locked by the guards.

Ages later, a heavyset red haired man came bearing food and drink. He set the tray on the floor.

"I have given you generous helping of fresh clean water and a hearty broth. I will thank you to put everything I have given you back on the tray, no foolery you hear?" I nodded somberly, my stomach growling at the offering. No pissing off the food man, I could handle that. He nodded at you, "enjoy your food." He turned to leave.

"Thank you!" Rushed out of my mouth in hushed tones. He stopped and turned back, looking shocked.

"You're welcome lass, Bombur at your service," I smiled genuinely, while tears pricked at my eyes. He excused himself and fled quickly. I chuckled softly, as a few tears fell from my eyes. I was happy to see food, and yet the sight of the big man fleeing your tears had been so comical in your odd situation. I reached out and inched the tray closer, grabbing the wooden cup and pitcher full of water. I filled the cup and drank deeply. The cold poignancy of the water was like heaven, and tasted unlike anything else I had ever been given the pleasure of tasting. There was an earthy hint of stone in the water that rather than taste nasty, only seemed to enhance the purity of it on your tongue. I poured another glass and then reached for the bowl and spoon. The broth was rich, and was soon gone, having me mourn it's loss. I discarded the bowl and spoon to the tray and grabbed the cup to drink more languidly this time, savouring the crisp taste of the water. I sighed contentedly. Now if only I wasnt stuck in a cell chained to the wall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone sorry for the wait for a new chappie. Been busy with work and life, just finally got a few minutes to indulge myself and of course all of you.
> 
> Enjoy Tip♡

~READER~

I set aside the tray and dishes, knowing someone would be back to retrieve them, and leaned back against the wall as the world began to spin. The food in my stomach had made me comfortably sleepy. I was sure some time had passed, but I had been lulling against the wall not wanting to move. A chill had begun to cling to the walls of your cell and an involuntary chill rippled through my body.

"She's cold," lisped a voice from beyond the bars that you recognized. 

"And you shouldna' care, she's a theif Ori," came a belligerent and second familiar voice. 

"Have they found the Arkenstone on her person?," replied person with the small lisp. 

"They havena' searched her yet," answered the other. 

You didn't move. Eyes closed, listening to their words, refusing to believe them as panic began to ratchet up your heartbeat. 

"Where're ya goin' Ori?" Muttered the other voice. 

Two distinct words blared in my dazed brain "Arkenstone" and "Ori". 

"Open the door, please," lisped Ori. 

"Oh bother and blast," hushed the other man. I heard the familiar clank of the door.

"It's cold, Dwalin, and she cannot answer for her actions if she falls ill. She is also a lady, and ladies deserve respect," answered Ori. 

The mention of the other man's name being Dwalin caused ice to grow in my veins, they were many more things pointing to a conclusion that my little peabrain wasn't quite ready to accept. 

"Not every woman is a lady, Ori," answered Dwalin in exasperation. 

Rustling sounds garnered your attention, and then something touched your chilled skin. My eyes shot open, causing the young man to drop the blanket he'd been trying to drape over your prone form. A little shriek dropped from his lips as he scurried back to the door, closing as the guard comes forward to lock it. My eyes wander to the other man with his bushy beard, bald head, and piercing angry eyes. Dwalin, son of Fundin, your mind supplied, and then just as quickly dashed it, not quite willing to go there yet.

"Come Ori, let's go," Dwalin said, ushering Ori's smaller form away. 

Gratefully you grab the blanket, wrapping it around yourself, thinking about how the fuck I had managed to find myself here. I should be in the exploded remnants of my apartment, with no one to care that I was broken and bleeding. 

And this tableau repeated I assumed day after day, it all just seemed to bleed together for me. Oin would come and tend my knees and occasionally inspect my back. Bombur would come with food and drink. The guards would rotate my chamberpot, it seemed, every evening but I still couldn't be sure. I didn't know what time of day it had been when I had arrived in this place. At this point I felt as though a week had passed in this manner. I had also become quite the point of curiousity it seemed. Every time I raised my eyes to my prison bars there was a new face there, oftentimes two. Whispers would reach my ears about this and that. The most prominent was that I was something unnatural, and that just made me smile stupidly, having no idea as to what had given them that impression. The simple fact that disturbed me more, was that not all of the curious faces were unfamiliar. 

Today at the moment, I was being being stared at by Not-Bifur. The big scar on his forehead heralding where the axe had been impaled. He wasn't talking but that was ok, I wasn't either, having decided I was in a goddamn coma because there was no fucking way I had been exploded to Middle-earth. Yet here was the evidence staring me in the face, mocking my sensibilities. I felt disgusted with myself. As a child I had dreamed of going somewhere over the rainbow, or faliing down a rabbit hole into a world not my own. Now, it seemed my fevered coma, and swollen brain, was determined to provide me with it. With a huff, I pulled my blanket around me and settled in to nap. If it was that interesting, Not-Bifur could watch for all you cared.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, 
> 
> hope you are all well and still enjoying my work. I was asked to update soon I have heard and I obey. May you indulge with me.
> 
> Tip♡

~READER~

By my estimate, at least a few more days had passed, and Oin had stopped comig to tend my knees. I missed his presence, he was kind and it broke the tedium of my days even if I didnt speak back to him.   
For the umpteenth time, I wished I had been holding my cell phone when I exploded. Goddamn did I ever miss music; it would have chased some of the boredom away. There really wasn't much to do in a cell, and your shackles only allowed you to sit, stand, lean or lie down in a very short radius.   
I was letting my mind wander, probably not the best decision since it would be very easy to slop into a despairing mood and stay there. I needed to do something, feeling helpless yet trying to tamp it down. I wondered of I could ever get out of this blasted cell.   
I replayed all of the conversations that I had heard and overheard, names of people. Arkenstone echoed loudly in my mind as dread settled in the pit of my stomach, and an ashen face flared in my mind's eye, 

"Thorin!" 

The name slipped from my lips as realization dawned on me. I had landed on the prone corpse of the Dwarf King, and had effectively interrupted the funeral of the Line of Durin.   
With this, a great many other things clicked into place. The cruel hands that had rent you off of the dwarf king, and then twisted into your scalp. That man had called you a thief, and then had come outraged cries of 'jewel' and 'stolen'.   
Cold fear jackknifed my being. The dwarves, not little people, but real fucking dwarves, thought you had stolen the arkenstone from their dead King. For a few minutes I didn't dare move. Panic started to set in fully and I began to breath heavily, close to hyperventilating 

"I daresay my dear that I could feel your panic all the way at the top of the mountain!" 

I turned my head to the side, to see the cell door being unlocked for Gandalf the Grey. I must look a sight to him , eyes bulging and panting in panic. He came in much the same as he had before, shuffling forward and seating himself in front of me.   
A flash of motion had a pipe appearing in his hand, and he began the ritual of prepping it for smoking. I stared at him for a moment, mouth flopping like a fish. I saw the smoke rising from his pipe and I shot to my feet. 

"They're gonna kill me!" I shrieked at the grey wizard. 

Apparently I shocked him, because he blew the pipe weed he'd loaded to smoke right out of his pipe and onto the floor of my cell. My outburst of emotion left me feeling as though I was burning in my own skin.

"LEAVE US!!" shouted Gandalf commandingly, and I felt the intensity reverberate through my body, and no book or movie could ever compare to feeling it firsthand. 

Clanking and shuffling, the sound of hurried footsteps heralded your privacy with the wizard. You stumbled to the cold stone wall, slid down into a sit, and started giggling madly. 

"This is a dream, a dream, a dream. I'm in a coma. I was blown up and burned beyond recognition, now I'm lying between life and death in this fevered dream," i muttered, with another fit of mad giggles. "And the Dwarves are gonna kill me!!!!" I wailed, as tears started to flow. 

Gandalf sat there watching me mouth, slightly agape. I balled myself up against the wall and started to cry miserably. Slight scuffling alerted me to Gandalf moving , likely to leave me to my tears. 

"Please look at me my dear," asked Gandalf gently. 

Ashamed of my outburst and thoughts, I did as he asked. The moment my face is visible, he jams the stem of his pipe between my lips and instructs me to breath deeply. I exhale, and then inhale softly, hoping not to choke myself, it wasn't to be. I spluttered out the smoke of the leaf, earning a chuckle from Gandalf, until I lift my eyes to meet his. 

"There you are," he says, as though he were speaking to a child, and I supposed that was true enough. "Would you talk with me young lady?"

"I would like that very much Gandalf," I told him softly, the salt from my tears burning the trails they had left down my face. 

"Now that you believe that I belong to that name," he replied, with a smirk lighting his old features. 

I smile back and nod.

" I would ask, that you tell me how you think all of this happened," he said, with a wave of his hand.

I took a deep breath to steady myself, and then words began to leave my mouth in a slow stream, as I unburdened myself to the grey wizard. When I was finished, I met Gandalf's aged blue eyes with purpose. 

He nodded once, "I believe you, but I must ask you..." He began, and you answer before he can finish, 

"I do not have the Arkenstone, Gandalf, nor would I want it."

"Do you know if Dain took it?" He pressed. 

"I do not think so," I told Gandalf. "He seemed more satisfied throwing me about," I answered.

"If neither you, nor Dain, have the Arkenstone . . . ," he trailed off thinking.

"I don't know, however, there was a warmth that radiated from myself, like a blast of heat, when I appeared in this place."

"That originated from you, my dear?" He asked, his keen interest made you falter. 

"I, I believe so," I answered. Gandalf hummed low in his throat. 

"You are here, and yet the Arkenstone is not, seemingly vanished?" He contemplated. 

"Perhaps it switched places with me," I offered. 

Gandalf took a long drag off his pipe. "Interesting!" He drawled out the word, but offered no more. 

A fair amount of time passed between us, just existing in each others company. Then abruptly Gandalf got to his feet, and gathered himself.

"I apologize my lady, I must take my leave of you," he told me politely. 

I nodded at him, nerves wracking me again. 

"Take heart young lady," he said, casting a pointed look at me. "The dwarves will not kill you! I promise you that!"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes another new chapter today. I am hopeful to indulge you all. This one goes out to HetaWhovian sorry I am not out to kill you, only intoxicate you. Hope it's working.
> 
> Tip♡

~READER~

With those words, Gandalf had left me in the cell, guards had returned moments later and locked the door. From then, time had seemed to drag on, hour by hour and day by day, at this point I was just trying to keep myself sane. Short of holding a conversation with myself, I wasn't quite sure what else I could do to stave off the boredom. I had sung to myself for hours, sometimes for pure distraction, and other times just for peace of mind.

I still had my steady stream of dwarvish gawkers. Most remained silent, a few chose to speak to you however, like Nori asking for tips, obviously thinking you had spirited away the Arkenstone. He gained no knowledge however, as I had none to give.   
Bofur had delighted in teasing you, having caught you singing to yourself. He complimented your pretty little voice, telling to put such a voice to better use rather than silence. I had shaken my head at him, smiling slightly. He had tried several more times, trying to coax you into light pleasantries. You had fondly enjoyed Bofur , and inside were glad to see him, but there was a major difference. This really was thee Bofur, not a movie and certainly not James Nesbitt's portrayal of Bofur.   
However, you had to admit that Peter Jackson had been quite accurate in his casting. Not to mention the portrayals he and the actors had come up with. Still you had yet to see more than a few of the prominent players from the films.   
You and Bofur had regarded each other for a time, as he leaned against your bars, smoking. Then he had sighed, the action carrying all the way down his shoulders to the core of his body.

"Why is it the fair lasses only want to speak with the more robust dwarves, and my brother at that, it isna fair," he had drawled.

I quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering what he was on about. 

He had continued, "You mark Bofur, lassie. I'll get you talking, and with a short amount of luck, laughing." 

He'd then sent me a naughty wink, before turning and walking away. That had been days ago, but so much time had bled together for me, that I had lost entire track of it and had no way of catching up. However, today something was different. More, purposeful? I just couldn't say what. 

I got up and used my chamber pot, not even flinching, having grown used to the eyes of the guards on you all the time. They never made any indication of noticing.   
I finished up, and was just getting ready to settle down against the wall, when loud footsteps sounded in the dungeons. Minutes later, Dwalin appeared at your cell, and unlocked the door, allowing himself entry. He came towards me, a stern set to his features. 

"Will you fight me, lass?" 

At his question, I look at his hands and see a length of cord in them. I shake my head, and offer my hands to him. He deftly crosses my wrists and binds them, not in a cruel manner, however you know that they will not move from their bonds. He then bent and unlocked your shackles. As he straightened beside me, I noted that he was a few inches shorter than me. The realization amused me, as most times I had met with the dwarves I had been seated and hadn't noticed the difference. It was obvious now. Dwalin's voice broke your musings. 

"You will walk with me, lass, and stay by my side. Dinna get it in your head to run, because I will catch you . . .," he let the thought trail off not needing to finish.

He then walked, and I followed, with my head bowed, respecting that in this instance, he was the one with the power. I trailed behind Dwalin, as he left the cell, and then travelled past a long row of empty ones. Then behind him up a staircase, to the entrance of the dungeon, and out. 

After so much time spent in the dungeon, my eyes were everywhere. Taking in the light from the torches, in their elaborate wall sconces, and the gorgeous stonework all around me that must have taken many years. 

Seeming to understand, Dwalin gave me a moment to process and then, "Come lass, with me." 

He gestured that I should walk beside him. I obeyed, and fell into step beside him, casting my eyes downward. We came to what looked like an elevator shaft, and to my delight, that is exactly what it was. Crude and a bit damaged, but still working. We climbed in and rode up for a time. The silence was palpable. As you exited the lift, you could feel eyes, many of them marking your progress through the Lonely Mountain. 

Erebor, the formerly lost kingdom of the dwarves. I let out an involuntary shiver, being both excited and a little afraid. Dwalin continued his pace, and I followed dutifully. A pissed off Dwalin could be great under the right circumstances, however, at me wasn't the circumstance I wanted.   
My legs were achy from disuse but I refused to let it show. 

"You best be ready, lass. We are almost there,"Dwalin spoke softly, for my ears alone. 

I nodded, holding the same sentiments, considering I had no idea of what was going to happen. By the time Dwalin finally halted, my legs were burning, their deepest muscles protesting after so long. Dwalin then left your side to stand behind you. He then pushed you down, a pure pressure until you rested on your knees on the stone floor. 

"Your Majesty," said Dwalin reverently. 

Panic rose in my chest. I didn't want to deal with Dain, former lord of the Iron Hills, and current King of Erebor. I kept my head bowed, dread filling me as moments stretched on in silence, likely on purpose to make me feel small and insignificant, waiting for Dain to pass judgement. I shifted on my knees, becoming aware of murmuring all around me. 

"So," a soft low voice in front of you began. "This is the human thief who snuck into the halls of Erebor, while her King was laid low, and chose to steal from me and mine, yet refuses to answer for it?" 

My eyes dart up from the floor to the throne, that I knew would be there. Fresh stone had been laid into the backing of the throne, but it was the figure seated upon it that held your eyes, with his bright, intense gaze, a challenge within and a hint of disdain.

"You finally gift me with the honesty of your eyes. You thought you would never have to answer to me or my kin," he spat with loathing. 

I shifted my gaze to his left.There sat Prince Fili, in a chair, with Bilbo by his side. To the left of Fili sat Prince Kili, also in a chair, flanked by Gandalf and Balin. My gaze came back to the throne to Thorin Oakenshield, surrounded by his loyal company save for Dwalin, who stood at my back. 

"You are surprised? You shouldn't be, thief, what have you to say of your actions?" 

I slid my eyes closed, and bowed my head. Thorin Oakenshield, alive, impossible, and yet here he was, expecting answers from you, of all people. 

"Come now girl, won't you gift us with your voice? Bofur informs me that it carries a tune prettily," he sneered. 

Was he really mocking how I had spent my time in the dungeons?

"I am afraid, your majesty," I begin lifting my head, and opening my eyes to find his. "That I do not have any answers for you." 

His gaze bore down on me, but I couldn't back down now, to do so would be to admit deceit in the eyes of Thorin. 

"The Arkenstone?" His reverance for the item, threaded in his voice like silk. 

"I have told you, Thorin," bit in Gandalf.

"I WOULD HEAR IT FROM HER LIPS," growled King Thorin, gaze locking onto the wizard, fury riding in their blue depths. I had to bring him back to me.

"YOUR MAJESTY?" I hailed loudly, waiting while he swivelled his head, eyes closing and then refocusing on me. " I do not have the Arkenstone," I told him firmly, while being held captive in his eyes. 

"Then you will enlighten me, human, as to where you think it went," he pressed me. 

"I don't know, your majesty," I replied. 

"You have pretty manners, for a petty thief," he charged softly. 

"AND A LIAR," boomed from the far right of the throne, and I couldn't misplace the voice of Dain.

I kept my gaze on Thorin, afraid to do anything else. My salvation lay in his hands, and precisly what he thought of my answers and actions.

"How do you explain that you appeared out nowhere, defiling the supposed dead," my cheeks heat up in embarrasment, but I hold the dwarf king in my gaze, as his countenance shifts between me and his cousin. Dain continued, "and when I removed your vile person from our much loved king, the Heart of the Mountain had vanished, as it if it had never been there at all." 

"I will not hold myself up for your judgement, only his Majesty may hold sway over me," I fired back, thinking it sounded good, and a hush fell. 

"The only other person near to the Arkenstone was you, Dain!" Thundered Gandalf.

"Oh please, what nonsense," answered Dain.

"It would have been an easy business to slip it into a pocket while throwing the girl about," pressed Gandalf.

"Peace, Gandalf," said Thorin holding up a hand, and cutting his gaze to the grey wizard. 

"Dain has been questioned, his articles and person thoroughly searched. If he had had the Arkenstone, I would know of it," Thorin told Gandalf, and then swung his eyes back to me. " I will ask you again, girl, do you have an answer for me as to where my Arkenstone disappeared, if you do not have it?" 

Several beats passed as I thought about it wishing I knew so that I could answer him.

"No," I said with finality.

"Then you leave me with no choice, woman," the chill in the king's voice froze your heart. 

"She is the Arkenstone!!" Supplied a timid voice. 

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF," barked Thorin, and the company parted to reveal young Ori. 

"She IS the Arkenstone. It makes perfect sense," said Ori. 

The cavernous hall erupted into murmurs.

"SPEAK SWIFTLY, ORI," booms Thorin.

"She appeared, the Heart of the Mountain disappeared, and we have the line of Durin, mended from death to rule Erebor once more," offered Ori, a smile lighting his features.

"Long live the King," I whispered, but it fell like a bomb upon the hall. That was when I had appeared. I glanced at Balin, who was staring at me in awe. 

"I would have proof," growled Thorin, demanding my attention again. "Tell me, O mighty Heart of the Lonely Mountain," he boomed, his voice echoing the hall. "Some sort of revelation that will lend credence to my scribe, Ori's, suspicions." 

I dropped Thorin's gaze, as my brain exploded. Ori had given me the perfect opportunity, but should I take it? What choice did I really have? Then it struck me. Gandalf had orchestrated this scharade, and had very likely planted those thoughts with Ori, knowing that this would transpire in this exact manner. 

"I humbly await your answer, sweet Arkenstone, make it a good one," rumbled Thorin, almost sarcastically, from the throne. 

He was mocking me, like he knew everything, and had all the answers. I adored the performance of Richard Armitage as Thorin Oakenshield, but I badly wanted to plant my foot up the real one's ass. 

"Have you succumbed back to silence, Arkenstone? Have you not the heart to continue?" he called to me. 

My mind was reeling, what could I say to the King under the Mountain to grab his full undivided attention, and yet punch him right in the heart where it counted.

"My condolences, King Thorin Oakenshield, on the recent passing of your father, Thrain, son of Thror," I glanced up to catch his eyes. "You were right to search as long as you did." 

His eyes flashed, and Thorin jolted up from the throne and waved off his company, as they tried to convince him to sit back down. He left the throne behind, as he steadily made his way down to me, trying so very hard to hide the limp of his shorn foot. 

He started speaking, "Your insolence is beyond compare," his volume increased. "You know NOTHING of my kin, and pretend to speak thus," he gasped in a pained breath. "My father fell at Azanulbizar, and his body rests with other slain in glorious battle."

I cut him off angrily. "And you would believe the goading of the Azog the defiler, over me?!?" 

"BETTER THE ENEMY I KNOW, THAN THE ONE I DO NOT!!!" he screamed at me. 

I certainly had his attention now. 

"Thrain loved you, Thorin Oakenshield, very much. His last wish was for you to know." I said. 

Thorin regarded me for a few moments, he then turned his back on me, striding back to the throne and seating himself carefully. 

"And am I to heed the heart of the mountain? 'Thrain loves you Thorin Oakenshield', speaks of bad poetry to me," he scoffed. 

"It is not bad poetry, King Thorin, the Arkenstone heralds true. Your father recently passed, and bade me give you those words," said Gandalf, eyeing me suspiciously. 

Even he was uncertain as to how you had come by that knowledge. 

"You try my patience sorely, Gandalf. If this woman speaks truth of the message you bore, why do I only hear of it's importance now?" Asked Thorin.

"Time was not my friend," replied Gandalf. 

"Clearly not," mused Thorin. 

"Thorin Oakenshield, if not for the Heart of the Mountain, you would never have been given the opportunity to hear this message," retorted Gandalf. 

"Gandalf," the warning was evident in Thorin's voice. 

"You and your heirs lay dead. No life in your body and no air in your breast, if no one else has the courage to give it voice," said Gandalf, anger adding pitch to his normally amiable voice. 

"LIES," spat Thorin.

"No, King Under the Mountain, when I fell upon your breast it was not filled with the warmth of life, but the chill of death," I told him, taking up Gandalf's fight, using his words, hoping for more credibility. 

"You were mistaken!" Whispered Thorin.

"No, laddie," interjected Balin. "I wish they had been. You were dead, and lay ready for burial with your sisters-sons." 

Thorin considers this a moment. His disquiet etched into his tense frame. I needed to give him one final push. 

"When the company of Thorin Oakenshield was lost, down, down, down in Goblin Town; I face that same company now, at this moment, and each of you know I was not present," I spoke, addressing all who stood by the throne. 

"I would hear your conclusion, woman," snapped Thorin.

"You fought your way out of the Goblin Town with the aid of Gandalf," who nodded sagely, following your point.  
"But along your way, you lost your burglar."

"What of it?" Asked Thorin, looking weary.

"Never did he tell that he fell from the scaffolding, into the further depths of the cave, to play riddles in the dark with a fouler foe, who threatened to eat him whole should he lose?" 

All eyes fell on Bilbo, who spluttered into a hand, most becomingly flustered at your revelations. He collected himself. 

"You couldn't possibly know that!" Stated Bilbo.

"It proclaimed that it had never had Hobbitses before," I answered. 

The company watched quietly, and Bilbo chuckled nervously. You could see him pondering whether you knew of his little treasure or not. 

"You won his game of riddles, Master Baggins, and in a bid to avoid certain death at the ire of the creature you, tricked him into leading you to the escape of the caves." 

Bilbo held his hand up, causing me to silence my thoughts, the rest of the company silent and still. 

"You, you," he wagged an accusing finger in my direction. 

I smirked inwardly, I would not divulge THAT secret. 

"Do I not speak truth, Bilbo Baggins, only son of Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took?" 

His gaze shot up, and Bilbo Baggins looked me in the eye for the first time.

"You cannot know," he began, but I cut off his protest.

"I can and I do, Master Baggins, for I know on that day you had to choose between taking a life, or sparing one."

"And what did our humble burglar, Master Baggins, choose to do?" Rumbled Thorin.

"His pity of the afouled creature stayed his weapon, and he snuck past him back into the woods, and into the fold of your company. It was there that he began to earn your respect, Thorin Oakenshield, vowing to help you reclaim Erebor, if he could," I responded, hoping for it to be enough. 

Several moments passed.

"Master Burglar, do you dispute the truth of her words?" Thorin asked Bilbo, who looked as of he'd swallowed a fish whole, scales and all. 

"I cannot dispute her, Your Majesty. On all accounts she speaks true, but only you can answer her last statement," Bilbo replied, finally finding his calm. 

Thorin regarded me, the wear of this trial evident in his features.

"Do you still deny me, mighty King under the Mountain?" a hint of mockery coloured my tone, ever so slightly. 

"Rise and approach." 

An eruption of whispers and murmurs met the Kings words, I ignored them all and lifted a leg to brace my bound hands on my knee, to make it easier to rise from the stone floor. My hips and legs protest the movement, but I follow it through.   
Dwalin's footsteps follow you, as you approach the three steps that will take you up to throne. Stopping in front of the King, I bow softly at the waist, but not too far for fear of showing too much to the crowd behind, as I was still only in my nightdress.   
Quick as a flash Thorin gripped your hands. The glint of a knife appeared, and it all happened so fast that you couldn't have even drawn breath to scream. However, you decided that was for the best, as the cord binding your hands hit the floor. 

"Turn around!" Rasped Thorin. 

I didn't dare to voice anything, and did as I was told, seeing Dwalin facing me from the bottom of the steps. 

"I present Erebor, with the Heart of the Mountain, the precious King's Jewel, Lady Arkenstone," he boomed to the masses that were bearing witness. 

I could hear Dain muttering underneath the din, clearly unhappy with the turn of events. I, on the other hand, felt extremely exposed, facing all of Erebor in my nightgown.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's been awhile. Sorry about that I typed out a doozy and then disappeared. Work has kept me busy but I have been preoccupied knowing I needed to post so here it is with my apologies.
> 
> Tip♡

~READER~

Behind me I sensed the movement of Thorin Oakenshield, as he rose from the throne to stand beside me. I noted that he was just a hair shorter than Dwalin, and then he was brushing past me.

"Come along, Arkenstone, unless you would prefer the dungeons?" Thorin called over his shoulder. 

That spurred my feet to follow him sharply, and as I did, I noted that the crowds had begun to disperse. Apparently, the only thing on the agenda today had been you. I followed Dwalin and Thorin higher into the mountain, if that were possible, to a long hallway of corridors. 

"This is the Royal Wing, My Lady," Thorin offered, as if sensing your thoughts. "Many of Dain's army are excellent stone masons and craftsmen, I am hoping that some will stay. They have worked very hard to restore this wing, as well as the basic internal structure of the mountain. Are you pleased, Lady Arkenstone?" Breathed Thorin softly, a respect laced in his tone that hadn't been present before. 

"It is impressive, My King," I answered, placing the same respect in my tone, feeling awkward walking with legends and becoming the living embodiment of the Kings Jewel. I chanced a glance at Thorin, a limp in his gait he had been attempting to hide. "Are you well, Your Majesty?" I asked, knowing what ailed Thorin but felt it proper to ask. 

"Well enough, for having been deceased, " he answered. 

"I am-" I began.

"There is no need, as it seems that I owe you my life, as well as those of my sisters sons. It is a debt I can never repay in all of our lifetimes," he said softly, his consideration evident in his tone. 

I nodded my head in easy acceptance, while my guts churned uneasily. What could I really have said to Thorin Oakenshield?   
Dwalin accompanied us, still a silent shadow to our journey through Erebor. We walked for a time, until we came to the end of a hall with a great square hole in the middle of the stone floor. I peered into it, at the beauty of a natural waterfall. Beyond the waterfall displayed in the floor lay a huge set of ornate double doors, carved right into the wall of the mountain. Instead of venturing beyond those doors, Thorin led me to the right down yet another hall, that was mirrored in design on the opposite side. The corridor ended with another set of double doors built in the wall, less detailed but still very beautiful. 

"These will be your quarters, Lady Arkenstone," he told me, as he grasped the handle of the left door. "You will find all that you require within. Would that I could show them to you, but I fear that I must take my leave of you," he told me, much more formal than he had been in previous moments.

He then gripped my hand in his, and brought it to his face. My heart stuttered as his whiskers whispered over my knuckles, followed by the barest brush of lips, the sensation so very foreign, lit a fire along all my nerve-endings. He released my hand, giving me a pointed look to enter the opened room.

"Rest well, Heart of the Mountain," he bid me. 

I couldn't formulate words to respond, so I nodded and walked into the room. The door clicked closed behind me, and then I heard a lock click with finality. Still a prisoner, I leaned back against the door and slid down to sit on the floor. Should I try to escape, and the question was, did I really want to?? 

From outside the door I heard Dwalin mutter,   
"Ye canna mount her above your throne, Thorin!" 

I smiled, and shook my head. A low growl emitted, likely from King Thorin. 

"Tis is only a thought, Your Majesty," said Dwalin, amusement colouring his tone.

"I thank you for your thoughts, my friend!" Ground out Thorin. 

Moments later, I heard another door open and shut. Decidely alone, you pulled your head forward and bounced it off the locked door at your back, so much had transpired. 

'Lady Arkenstone', a title so much prettier and exotic than my own name. Things were becoming complicated for myself. You still were not entirely sure that you were truly in middle-earth, but this was all carrying on a bit long for it to be anything else. That line of thinking however would do me no good.


End file.
